


wake up to your sunset

by starboykeith



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Background Hance, Barebacking, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Camboy Roleplay, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Domestic, Established Relationship, Felching, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Other Voltron Paladins, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Name-Calling, Pining, Reunion Sex, Rimming, Roleplay, Sex Toys, Texting, Webcam/Video Chat Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-02
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-12-22 15:49:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11970585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starboykeith/pseuds/starboykeith
Summary: Shiro's away for work, and Keith quickly grows tired of waking up to say goodnight, of counting back eight hours and wondering how Shiro's spending the day.It hurts more than he can describe to make dinner for one, to fill the apartment with music Shiro hates and miss the accompanying sound of Shiro complaining, to sleep in a cold bed where half remains empty.





	wake up to your sunset

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yeison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeison/gifts).



> thank you so much synne, i hope you enjoy it!
> 
> a warning: the tag 'name-calling' refers to shiro calling keith slut and whore, which is 100% consensual
> 
> title from jetlag by simple plan, which also served as some of the inspiration behind this prompt, so check it out

Keith's been looking forward to this all week.

Shiro's been gone for two weeks, now. He's doing amazing, important work: the company he works for, AlteanTech, designs and produces prosthetic limbs, particularly for children, worldwide, and it's something close to his heart and helps so many people – so many  _children_ , at a crucial point in their development. Keith loves him for it, knows Shiro loves his job, wouldn't have it any other way.

But it means Shiro travels a lot, being both a senior member of the company and a recipient of the tech, and Keith spends long days or even weeks alone in their apartment. Shiro's in California at the moment, eight hours behind Keith, stuck at home in England, and most days Shiro will only just get back in time to wish Keith goodnight, whereas Keith has to say goodnight to Shiro as soon as he gets up in the morning.

It's hard to be apart – even harder to be the one sitting and pining away at home, in an apartment filled with them both but lacking half the personality, and Keith has so much time on his hands in his last year of university, working on his dissertation but staying at home most days, only going in a few times a week for meetings with his tutor. Shiro won't be home for over a month, and the two weeks are small in comparison, but Keith's already counting down the days.

It hurts more than he can describe to make dinner for one, to fill the apartment with music Shiro hates and miss the accompanying sound of Shiro complaining, to sleep in a cold bed where half remains empty.

Shiro had laughed and called him a cliché when Keith had nervously brought up phone sex, but since then it's been a lot easier to go to bed alone, to make it through the day when he knows later that night they'll be able to –  _rendezvous_. It's still hard to not be able to touch Shiro, lacking the true intimacy of sex when it's just over a screen, but it puts a spring in Keith's step nevertheless.

They're trying something new today.

He'd been apprehensive when Shiro had suggested it – the prospect of Skype sex had seemed laughable even before Shiro had suggested  _this_  – but Keith finds himself buzzing with excitement.

Saturday isn't a lazy day – Keith has a dissertation to write, deadlines to keep – but is still the best day of the week, if only because he knows that at 12am sharp –

Skype comes to life with the buzz of Shiro's ringtone, and Keith smiles. He adjusts his laptop so the webcam displays only his collarbone and above, hiding his nudity from the camera, takes a deep breath, and picks up the call.

“Hey, baby,” comes Shiro's voice, and then he turns his camera on and Keith's gaze lights on Shiro's face, warmth swelling in his chest at the sight of him, and then drops to where Shiro's clearly shirtless, chest visible as he carries his laptop through an indistinguishable room.

When he sets it down, Keith gets a good look at Shiro's dick through the thin sweatpants he's wearing, and heat burns low in his belly.

“Hi,” he says, dropping his voice an octave. He'd worried that he'd feel silly playing a character, playing a  _role_ , but he catches the edge of Shiro's fond smile and relaxes, knowing Shiro would never laugh at him. Shiro asked for this, after all, had been so earnestly excited when Keith said yes, and the thought gives him confidence.

There's the rustling of sheets as Shiro gets settled, and then Shiro picks up the laptop and situates it the way Keith has done, only his face visible.

“Tease,” Keith says, and Shiro smirks at him.

“I'm not paying to see your collarbones,” he remarks, and Keith's cock throbs.

He feels like Shiro is much better at this roleplaying stuff than he is, but reminds himself of the lines he'd – not scripted, he wasn't that lame –  _thought about_  earlier, and takes a deep breath.

“You haven't paid for this,” Keith says, and thinks about his position, how much he wants to tease Shiro today. He moves his laptop so Shiro can see his flushed chest, peaked nipples begging for attention, his cock hard and straining against his stomach. He's already sitting on a pillow, and it's easy to get the angle he wants.

“Fuck,” Shiro says, just loud enough that the microphone catches it, and Keith watches Shiro's expression shift from awe to hunger.

Keith eyes his supplies, spilled on the sheets next to him and hidden from Shiro's view, and contemplates his first surprise, but he waits for Shiro's response. Glancing at himself in the preview shows him his own flushed face, only going redder as he takes in how needy he looks already, but then so does Shiro, and Keith loves giving Shiro what he wants.

Shiro shifts, and suddenly his webcam is moving too and he's kicking away his sweatpants. He's only half-hard but as Keith watches, he takes himself in hand and strokes slowly, lazily, making Keith's mouth water.

“Hmm,” Shiro says, as though pretending to consider, and Keith shifts, trying not to show his discomfort. “Is this a free show, baby?”

Perfect, Keith thinks, and he pushes the laptop away and spreads his legs so Shiro can see the plug buried in his ass.

Shiro looks genuinely shocked, but only for a moment, and then he's easily slipping back into his smirking persona in a way Keith envies. “ _Keith_ ,” he breathes, and Keith rolls his hips a little, lets a breathy  _ah_  fall from his lips.

“Made sure I was ready for you,” he says breathlessly.

He doesn't hold back his moan when he takes the plug out, watching Shiro bite his lip, and then he moves his biggest dildo just in sight of the camera and pushes it back enough that Shiro can see his spread legs and hole fluttering, trying to close around something after being so full.

“Fuck, you look good,” Shiro says, and it makes Keith feel objectified in a way that makes pre-come start dripping onto his stomach. “Play with yourself,” Shiro says next, a thread of authority in his voice making it a command, and Keith swallows and reaches obediently between his legs, sinking two fingers inside easily and rubbing his thumb around the rim, whimpering at the tenderness after being stretched around the plug for so long. His other hand is on his knee for balance, pushing it out so he's as open as possible, so Shiro can see everything.

“Mmm,” Keith manages, playing up his moan a little. He adds a third finger after a moment, pressing as deep as he can and only just brushing over his prostate, making him tremble and cry out. Shiro's much better at finding it, and Keith aches at the thought. “Want more,” he says, biting his lip and thrusting his fingers, and it's not enough when he's so loose but it's worth it to see Shiro's face.

“You wanna fill up that greedy little hole, sweetheart?” Shiro says, and Keith goes hot all over, breath hitching.

“Please,” he says, a little breathless the way Shiro likes him, and Shiro's smile makes his stomach flip over.

He's still stroking himself slowly, and as Keith reaches to slick up the dildo he wishes painfully that Shiro was here. He misses the closeness, the intimacy, Shiro panting against his neck and his legs around Shiro's waist, feeling Shiro hot and hard inside him instead of the unforgiving toy.

“Good boy,” Shiro breathes when Keith presses the toy to his hole, shifting to hold his legs as wide as possible.

“Oh God,” comes out in a whimper as he starts pressing it inside. It's an easy fit – Keith had stretched and fingered himself until he was ready to take the plug, the toy, even enough to take Shiro if he was here – but it still feels incredible to be filled, to stretch open around something instead of the emptiness that came with taking out the plug. He breathes out in a long hiss when he's fully seated, finally raising his eyes to his laptop, and Shiro's  _dripping_  now, his hand moving faster, and Keith wishes so badly he could be there to taste him.

It's his biggest toy, and even though Keith's open enough to take it easily it's still a delicious stretch, enough to make Keith's breathing start to shake even before he starts moving.

“How is it?” Shiro asks, and Keith opens his mouth twice before he can reply.

“Full,” he says weakly. He wants to say  _I wish it was you_ , wants to tell Shiro how good it would feel to have him here stretching Keith open, but he doesn't want to spoil the mood, especially not when they've started off on such a high.

The roleplaying's fairly new, but Keith can't say he hasn't enjoyed it every single time. He likes the camboy scenario more than most, likes the idea of Shiro watching and objectifying him, likes the situation they've created this time where it's a private show and he can pretend he's Shiro's little whore, just Shiro's.

“So big,” he adds coyly, wanting Shiro to be jealous, and it makes him hot all over to know that Shiro would be jealous of a  _toy_  when it comes to Keith. “So good,” Keith continues, and he thrusts the toy shallowly, enough to make his voice break on a moan, “so hard inside me – “

“You're a little slut, aren't you?” Shiro says sharply, and heat swells through Keith so rapidly pre-come pulses from the head of his cock. “Come on,” he encourages next, tone much softer, and Keith slowly withdraws the toy and pushes it back in, a drawn-out moan slipping from him. Shiro's expectant expression has him doing it again, and again, and then he can't look at Shiro anymore, eyes squeezing shut as he moans and thrusts down and leaks against his belly.

“This isn't even about the money, is it?” Shiro says roughly, and when Keith opens his eyes it's to see Shiro's hand moving fast over his cock, wishing so badly it was the length pressing inside him. “You're such a slut for my cock you'd do this for free.”

“ _Yes_ ,” comes out as a moan, and Keith presses the toy deeper, searching for his prostate and whining when he only manages to brush it.

“Is that why you wanted a private session, baby?”

“You're my most loyal viewer,” Keith manages, hiccuping on a moan and blushing when Shiro smirks. “I reward loyalty.”

“Yes, you do,” Shiro says roughly, and Keith spreads his legs wider, gives Shiro a better view.

“Wish you were here,” he blurts out, and immediately regrets it, embarrassed. No need to bring that up now, remind them how far away from each other they are, he thinks; it's hard enough as it is without letting misery seep into their difficult sex life.

“Wish I was, too,” Shiro says after a heavy moment, his eyes softening, and then his gaze dips down. “I'd fuck you better than a toy ever could.”

“Shiro,” Keith says frantically, and he finally hits his prostate and cries out, hips rocking down to chase the feeling.

“It's not all talk, you know,” Shiro continues, and his expression has turned smug. “I'd give it to you so good you'd be screaming, fuck you until the whole building knows you're a little  _whore_.”

“Fuck,” Keith cries, and his wrist aches but he keeps fucking himself on the toy, rocking into the thrusts and catching and missing his prostate until he growls in frustration.

“Look at you,” Shiro says fondly. “It's not big enough, is it?” Keith feels even more embarrassed because Shiro's so steady, his voice mostly level, patience not waning even as Keith moans and cries and thrusts harder and harder against the toy. “I bet you're so  _loose_ , baby; such a slut for cock you could take two and it wouldn't be enough – “

And they've never discussed double penetration before, or incorporating toys alongside regular sex, but the thought of taking Shiro's cock and a toy simultaneously has Keith tipping over, coming so hard it drips from his chin, grip on the toy going lax as his hole flutters and pulses around it and a wail slips from his throat, and the sight has Shiro spilling over too.

It's hard to keep his eyes open, but Keith watches, watches Shiro's face as he comes over his hand, bites his lip as Shiro cries, “ _Keith_ ,” and closes his eyes when it gets too much. Keith loves watching Shiro come, the way he trembles and cries out for him, his expression falling lax and going tight all at once.

“Now I really wish you were here,” Keith says softly after a moment, smiling. He takes the toy out carefully, biting his lip hard against his noise, and tosses it to the side to be dealt with later.

“Mmm,” Shiro says, glancing down meaningfully, and Keith fumbles for the towel beside him and rubs at the come going tacky on his stomach. It's always overwhelming to realise he hadn't even touched his cock; that Shiro could make him come with just the sound of his voice and a toy inside him.

When they're both cleaned up, Keith shifts so he can lay down, curling up on his side. Shiro's leaning against his headboard, and Keith wonders absently if the bed feels too big for Shiro too, if he misses the warmth of Keith curled against him, or the shock of Keith's cold feet on his legs.

“Did you like it?” Shiro asks earnestly, and Keith almost blushes.

“Yeah,” he says, and then hurries to elaborate, because Shiro will interrogate him otherwise. “I liked that you were watching me and telling me what to do, and I, uh – I really liked the, the name calling.”

Shiro looks confused for a second, and Keith's heart jumps into his throat at the prospect of telling Shiro that he liked being called a  _slut_ , but then Shiro nods. They’d talked it through – and through, and through, because Shiro had been so nervous – and the more Keith had thought about it, the more he’d liked the idea.

“Good,” Shiro says warmly. “Those were the things I most wanted to try, so I'm – I'm glad you liked it.”

Roleplay hadn't been an attractive prospect to Keith at first, but he'd agreed to try it for Shiro's sake and ended up liking it a lot more than he'd expected. It wasn't like they roleplayed all the time, but Shiro had gained enough confidence that he'd stopped prefacing his suggestions with, “So you might think this is stupid, but,” and it made Keith happy to know he was making Shiro happy, fulfilling something that his boyfriend wanted.

And most, if not  _all_  of the time, it turns out to be something Keith wants too.

“Guess you'll have to book another session,” Keith says suggestively.

“I suppose I will,” Shiro says, smiling helplessly. He'd confessed he was still surprised and pleased that Keith was actually into it, and he loves Shiro's dumbstruck expression when Keith flirts back, expresses interest in doing it again.

Keith stifles a yawn, and watches Shiro's eyes move to check the time. An eight hour time difference makes scheduling calls difficult, but not impossible, and most nights means Shiro reprimands Keith on how late he goes to bed.

“Probably going out to dinner with Allura soon,” Shiro comments absently.

“You haven't eaten yet?”

“You aren't here,” Shiro says, and it takes Keith a moment but he blushes furiously when he realises Shiro's meaning.

“Shiro!”

“Baby,” Shiro says, and Keith groans when he winks. “You should get to bed, anyway. I saw that yawn.”

“Lies,” Keith says, and immediately has to yawn again. Shiro gives him an unimpressed look, and Keith groans. “Fine. It's not like I'm going anywhere tomorrow,” he hedges, wanting to talk longer, but Shiro shakes his head.

“Allura's coming to collect me soon, and I need to shower.”

Keith does as well, and he already feels drowsy but he knows it'll make him feel better to have a hot shower instead of dragging himself to bed drained and dirty and making it harder on himself in the morning.

“And so do you,” Shiro adds, and Keith gives him a tired smile. “Right. I love you.”

“Love you too,” Keith says. “Night, Shiro.”

He feels even more alone when he signs out, even after a scene as intense as the one they just played, and he stares morosely at the shower tiles as he waits for the water to warm up.

Shiro's probably having a lovely warm shower, Keith thinks bitterly, in his fancy hotel, hopefully stealing the soap and shampoos to bring home with him, probably waking up to a nice view every morning rather than a dusty city.

Keith crawls into their bed – their bed that no longer smells like Shiro, because he was forced to change the sheets after a particularly  _exciting_ dream and even the shirt Keith stole from Shiro is losing its scent – and shifts uncomfortably, feeling stretched and aching. He spares a moment to regret ditching the dildo in the sink to wash tomorrow, but in his defence, he's so tired the last thing he wants to contemplate is a fake cock at this hour of the night.

He checks his phone one last time, and the barrage of heart emojis from Shiro brings a reluctant smile to his face, at least.

 

* * *

 

Keith forces himself out of bed at eight, determined to make the most of his day and dreading the research he’s been putting off all week. His reflection in the mirror tells him today isn’t a good day, and Keith almost feels like collapsing back into bed until he hears the shrill ring of his phone and runs into the bedroom like he’s going for a medal.

Shiro greets him with a yawn.

“Good morning to you too,” Keith says, rolling his eyes.

“Don’t talk to me of morning.” God, Keith loves Shiro’s sleepy voice. “I’m about to go to sleep, I’m glad I didn’t wake you.”

Keith snorts. “I would not have been pleased,” he says, though honestly he wouldn’t forgive himself if he missed Shiro’s early morning goodnight calls. It’s part of the reason he’s able to motivate himself to start researching and working so early; it’s rare that they’re able to call for long, and Keith doesn’t want to waste a second.

“You can’t stay mad at me,” Shiro says, and Keith imagines him making puppy eyes. “Anyway. I’m just getting into bed.”

“It’s Sunday,” Keith says, frowning. “Surely you can’t have anything business-y planned.”

Shiro makes a noncommittal noise. “I’m pretty sure Allura wants to go over strategy,” he says neutrally.

“It’s  _Sunday_.”

“You know Allura. She doesn’t stop.” Keith hums in acknowledgement; that much is true. “What are you up to today?”

“Research, I guess,” Keith says, making a face even though Shiro can’t see him. “I might just put your shirt on and slob around, call it a lazy day.”

Shiro groans. “Don’t say that,” he says. “I need to sleep, not imagine you in my shirt and nothing else.”

“Sweet dreams, Takashi,” Keith says suggestively. He hears the rustling of sheets and another muffled yawn. “Text me when you get up.”

“I will,” Shiro says.

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Keith lets Shiro hang up first, some part of him rebelling against cutting Shiro off, and then he stretches and pads over to the drawers, opening Shiro’s and picking a t-shirt at random. The drawer is almost bare, Shiro having taken much of his clothing with him for such a long trip, and it makes Keith ache a little to feel as though he’s been left all alone.

The day passes slowly. Keith’s been trying to keep busy over the past weeks – making sure to meet with his tutor, arranging study groups, meeting with friends more often than usual, because it’s upsetting to realise what a hole Shiro leaves in his heart when he’s gone - but Sundays always drag, and Keith perks up when Shiro texts him good morning around six.

 _I hope you’re not moping around like last Sunday_ , comes another text, and Keith rolls his eyes.

He leaves the text a while, puts dinner on, texts Lance to suggest going out to coffee tomorrow, and then opens Shiro’s messages and sends,  _I do not mope_.

Shiro replies with an unimpressed emoji, and Keith sends back the angel emoji, smiling to himself and adjusting the oven, and puts the television on.

 _Get anything done today?_ Shiro sends.

_Found a really good article. Reckon Iverson might even give me kudos for relevance this time._

He can almost imagine Shiro’s disbelief; Keith’s talked his ear off often enough that Shiro knows Iverson is impossible to impress, and no matter how Shiro tries to convince him otherwise, Keith  _knows_ Iverson doesn’t like him. He was late to one class, the  _first_ class, in first year, and Iverson’s hated him ever since.

_Well done :)_

Keith smiles, beginning to type a reply, but his heart sinks when Shiro follows up with,  _I won’t be able to call or text tomorrow, got meetings all day._

_Oh._

_I’m sorry, baby_ , Shiro sends, and Keith feels immediately guilty for resenting something Shiro can’t help. Shiro loves his job, is so proud of the work he does, and Keith is, too; he loves that Shiro’s doing what he loves, making a difference to so many lives and in something close to his heart. Keith knows it’s all worth it, knows how light Shiro’s heart will be when he comes home, how he’ll be overflowing with pride and awe and eager to tell Keith all about it, and Keith wouldn’t change it for the world.

 _It’s alright_ , he replies. It would be wrong to let Shiro know he’s disappointed, and so Keith takes a deep breath and sends,  _I’m so proud of you, you know_.

The kitchen timer chimes and Keith gets his pasta bake out of the oven and dishes up, picks through the dishwasher until he finds a matching knife and fork, and by the time he gets back to the sofa Shiro has sent,  _I love you_ , and some of Keith’s tension melts away.

 

* * *

 

Monday brings a fresh start and Keith’s out of the house at nine, meeting with Iverson – he still thinks it’s a cruel twist of fate that Iverson was assigned as his dissertation advisor – and swelling with smugness when Iverson can’t find anything negative to say about his weekend research, dismissing him with merely a, “Keep it up, Kogane.”

He meets Hunk and Lance in the on-campus Starbucks, waving to indicate he’s spotted them before getting his usual latte. Shiro’s the one who gets heaps of sugar and syrup; Keith isn’t that fussed when he’s out of the house and willing to consume whatever caffeine he can find. It still jars him when he flips open his wallet to pay and sees the photo of him and Shiro - they look so  _happy_ , but what Keith's really fixated on is their joined hands - but he resists staring too long and manages to pay without looking too sombre.

“Why the long face?” Lance asks as soon as Keith sits down, and Keith pretends to stand up to leave. Hunk elbows Lance.

“Hi, Keith,” he says deliberately. “Excuse Lance. Nyma congratulated him in a  _mildly positive_  way on his progress and he’s been swooning ever since.”

Sometimes Keith envies Hunk and Lance’s easy relationship; nothing ever seems to bother Hunk, and Lance is just – well, he’s Lance, and Hunk somehow loves him regardless. Keith’s never seen them really argue, or get jealous, or sulk, and it’s impressive when he considers the amount of times the pair of them have witnessed him and Shiro having a  _domestic_. It’s not that they argue a lot; it’s that Keith tends to blow up without thinking first and without considering his audience, and Shiro doesn’t hide his disappointment or the clear signs that he and Keith will have  _words_ later.

Keith realises he’s made himself sad thinking about fighting with Shiro, and forces a smile that earns him a pitying look from Hunk.

They’re in the same situation as he and Shiro; Hunk works, and Lance is in his last year of university. Keith had met Lance before the pair had met, and the day Lance could no longer call Keith jailbait for being a year younger than Shiro was a satisfying day indeed.

“Iverson complimented me this morning,” Keith says, smirking at Lance. “I feel like I should be the one swooning.”

“Nyma  _never_  compliments me,” Lance boasts. “She’s finally warming up to my charming personality, that’s what it is. Hunk, maybe I could ask her – “

“Whatever is about to come out of your mouth, I don’t want to hear it,” Hunk says, and Keith hides his smile in the rim of his mug. Lance sips his drink and makes a face, grabbing for Hunk’s glass and taking a huge gulp.

“More sugar?” Hunk asks, laughing, and Lance nods, nose wrinkling. Hunk drops a kiss on his forehead as he stands up, and it’s such a thoughtlessly domestic gesture that Keith’s heart freezes in his chest.

Lance leans forward as soon as Hunk’s out of earshot. “You look miserable,” he says cheerfully, and Keith knows he waited till Hunk was gone because Hunk would have reprimanded him for it. But sometimes Keith enjoys Lance's complete lack of forethought; it's refreshing to have someone actually bring Shiro up instead of skating around it. It's not like he's  _dead_.

“He comes back in two weeks,” Keith says neutrally, and Lance manages to look mildly sympathetic. “It’s fine. At least he isn’t reading my dissertation over my shoulder.” It’s unconvincing and reeks of desperation to drop the subject, and Lance narrows his eyes.

Hunk slides Lance’s drink back in front of him, the liquid swirling from being stirred, and reads Lance’s guilty face and Keith’s stiff posture in an instant. “Lance,” is all he says, and that's enough to make Lance drop it.

Still, they manage to drag Keith to the shopping centre, and Keith somehow finds himself persuaded into buying new jeans and having his mind taken off Shiro for a few hours, and by the time he gets home, flushed and happy, the lack of texts from Shiro feels less like a knife to the heart. He couldn’t help but see the two of them in the way Lance and Hunk laughed and flirted easily, their familiarity so apparent Keith found himself smiling, and he feels no resentment when he messages, _Love you_ , and falls asleep before receiving his reply.

 

* * *

 

“Someone hit on me at the bar last night,” Shiro says offhandedly, overly casual in a way that screams he’s trying way too hard.

“Oh?” Keith asks mildly, pretending that the words alone don’t make him want to demand more information. Jealousy flares up in him as easily as a gasoline-doused flame, and it’s even harder when Shiro’s so far away, no doubt getting hit on a dozen times a day when Keith isn’t even aware and can’t do a thing about it, can’t slide his hand into Shiro’s back pocket and glare at anyone who dares to look at what’s his.

“Just, you know.” Shiro shifts uncomfortably, and Keith’s eyes narrow. “Offered to buy me a drink.” He’s finding something very interesting just above his laptop.

“What else?” Keith asks, voice flat, and Shiro finally looks at him. “Shiro?”

“They got a bit handsy, that’s all,” Shiro admits, and he looks nervous, forcing a laugh. “It’s always my arm, you know. No one ever goes for my ass.”

He’s trying hard to brush it off as casual, as just another day, but Keith can tell Shiro was affected by it. He pushes away his jealousy, sensing that Shiro wasn't just informing him out of courtesy: he wants to talk.

AlteanTech is incredible – the best prosthetics in the world, without question, moulding to body and mind in a way Allura likes to call  _magic_  – but Shiro’s still very conscious of his prosthetic, hating public perception and the common belief that it’s okay to just touch without asking. Keith doesn’t stand for it; nothing makes him angrier, and he’s almost gotten into bar fights over it before.

Keith hates that he can’t tell Shiro’s mood, can’t take his hand and coax the tension from his features, and instead he says lightly, “You got an address?”

Shiro laughs, and Keith’s relieved to hear it. “Shut it, you,” he says, but quickly sobers again. “I know it’s worth it,” he says, tone wavering. When Shiro’d first received the prosthetic, he’d hidden a lot; wore long-sleeved shirts and gloves and even shied away from Keith for a while after the accident, hating the extra attention. He’d been getting better, but since starting work with AlteanTech he’d grown so much, and there was purpose in helping others, in finding new ways to be the same role model he’d always been, to Keith and to everyone, really.

“I remember,” Keith starts, hesitant until Shiro nods at him, “when that little girl came up to us in Starbucks, and she wanted to compare ‘robot arms’ with you.” Shiro breaks into a real smile at the memory, and Keith continues, “And her mum pulled me aside and said she was so happy they’d seen you, because the girl was nervous about going back to school with it.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says, and his expression has softened.

“Things like that show you’re making a difference,” Keith says firmly. “People are horrible, I know, but they’ll get better. You’re doing the work that helps that happen.”

Shiro’s still unhappy, tension evident in the little furrow between his eyebrows, but he finds a smile for Keith that still manages to break Keith’s heart and wish they were together. Shiro’s tactile, always has been, and Keith knows that usually they would have had this conversation cuddled up on the couch, and Keith would have been able to kiss Shiro’s forehead and say, “Stop frowning, you’ll get wrinkles.”

Instead, Shiro changes the subject, asks how Keith’s study group went, and while Keith is all too happy to rant about the idiots who are  _somehow_ qualified to do the same course as him, he hates the thought of Shiro being down and unable to do anything about it.

He texts Allura asking her to cheer Shiro up, and wakes up to a text from Shiro saying,  _Why did Allura just tell me I have a nice ass?_

 

* * *

 

“You know when there's sad music on and you look out of the window and pretend you're in a movie?”

Keith laughs. “Yeah.”

“I was thinking about you.”

It's stupid, but it brings the biggest smile to Keith's face, and Shiro's grinning at him foolishly. “That's so dumb,” Keith says, but it isn't convincing at all, and Shiro blows him a kiss.

“It's part of my charm,” he says, and then grows solemn. “I – this is really stupid, but I just want to hold your hand.”

Keith softens, a little part of him melting and another part trying not to burst into tears, and he restrains himself from pressing his hand to the screen. “I want to hold your hand too,” he says sadly, unable to produce even an inflection of humour.

“I was thinking about when we went on that super English date – “

“Super English,” Keith mutters, immediately knowing what Shiro's referring to.

“ – when we got  _fish and chips_ ,” Shiro attempts and obliterates a posh accent, “and then  _you_  grabbed my hand and dared to complain that my fingers were greasy.”

“They were!” Keith protests. “It was disgusting.”

“You're disgusting,” Shiro says childishly, and Keith sticks his tongue out at him.

He opens his mouth to respond, but the shrill alert of Shiro's phone cuts them both off, and Shiro glances at him apologetically.

“It's Allura,” he says, but Keith somehow already knew. “I've gotta go.”

Shiro wasn't meant to leave for another half hour, but Keith puts a brave face on.

“Alright,” he says cheerfully. “Good luck with the – grant?” Shiro nods. “Good luck. You're gonna do amazing, babe.”

“I hope so,” Shiro says. He looks hesitant, and Keith knows it's nothing to do with his presentation. “Are you sure it's okay? I'm sure I could convince Allura – “

“It's fine,” Keith says through a smile. “Go on.”

“I love you,” Shiro says, and he still looks reluctant but Keith knows there's truly nothing to be done.

“Love you too,” he says. “Text me when you get back. Even if I'm asleep.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says. “I will do.”

Keith's left staring at their chat when Shiro ends the call, and it both makes him want to smile and cry upon seeing that the history is full of, “I love you,” and, “I love you too,” remnants of past Skype conversations.

As expected, a new, “I love you,” pops up from Shiro just before his status turns to offline, and Keith dutifully types, “I love you too,” the message leaving him feeling bereft and alone and with half an hour to kill before he has to start making dinner.

There’s just over a week to go – it’s Friday, and Shiro’s supposed to fly back the Monday after next. Supposed to. He’s been kept longer before, and Keith desperately hopes that isn’t the case this time.

It’s just so hard, waking up to say goodnight to Shiro, waiting the whole day for Shiro to let him know if they can call, trying to ignore the crush of disappointment when they can’t; because it  _is_  all worth it, and Keith would never complain when Shiro’s doing what he loves.

 

* * *

 

Keith presses the phone between his ear and shoulder, hopping on one foot as he fumbles to undo his laces.

“I can't do Monday, I told you,” he snaps, and swears when he throws his shoe to the floor and it bounces off one of Shiro's. “Listen, I'll just call you back tomorrow. Sort something out with the others, alright?”

He hangs up without waiting for a reply, tosses his phone onto the table and keys in the bowl, tearing his other shoe off and abandoning it beside the other one.

“God's sake,” he mutters, unwinding his scarf and throwing it onto the hook, and then he stomps into the bedroom to locate his laptop.

And freezes as Shiro straightens up from his suitcase and turns to him with a huge smile.

“Keith!”

“Shiro,” he breathes, throwing himself forward and Shiro catches him, swinging them around before kissing him hard, fingers winding into Keith's hair and pressing them flush together. 

He can't believe he hadn't noticed Shiro's keys in the bowl, his shoes by the door – he'd looked right at them, for God's sake – having been so distracted trying to organise a meeting between five students with hectic schedules he hadn't been observant enough to know someone else was in the apartment.

Shiro isn’t supposed to be home for a  _week_ , and Keith feels like a mess, mind suddenly flashing with all the chores he’s neglected and things Shiro has certainly noticed, and he feels a little embarrassed at being so unprepared, but it’s  _Shiro_ , and Keith is so happy to see him he’d take all the scoldings in the world.

“You're so warm,” is the first thing out of Keith's mouth when they part.

“You're freezing,” Shiro says happily, tapping Keith's nose, red with cold, and Keith kisses him again, so happy he feels overflowing with it.

Shiro kisses back harder, hotter, pressing Keith backwards until his back hits the wall, hands sliding from Keith's waist to grab his ass, and Keith pushes up against him, palms flat on Shiro's shoulders.

“Nice suit,” he says when Shiro lets him breathe.

“Had a meeting in the city as soon as I flew back,” Shiro says, explaining steadily even as he gets his hands under Keith's thighs and lifts him, spreading Keith's legs around his waist. “Thought you'd like me being dressed up for you.”

“Not right now, I don't,” Keith breathes, and he moans when Shiro rolls their hips together, fingers fumbling to loosen Shiro's tie and start on his buttons. He spots the blazer slung over a chair, and is almost disappointed he won't get to see it crumpled on the floor, but the thought flies from his head when Shiro shifts him up higher and gets his mouth on his neck, sucking hard enough that Keith knows he'll have a huge red-purple mark.

He feels eighteen again, when Shiro would press him into empty classrooms and cupboards and suck hickeys that would get Keith detentions from his teachers and glares from his classmates, and they didn't care because they were young and desperate and in love.

“Wanted to do this for ages,” Shiro says, kissing a path along Keith's jaw and sucking another mark, and Keith hums and squirms, pulling Shiro's hair.

“I won't be able to hide that,” he reprimands, and Shiro smirks and presses their lips together.

“Good,” he says, giving Keith more short kisses until Keith makes a frustrated noise and licks into Shiro's mouth, kissing him until he has to pull back to breathe.

“I missed kissing you so much,” Keith says.

“I missed this,” Shiro says, squeezing Keith's ass.

“Come on then,” Keith says impatiently, returning to undoing as many buttons as he can, and watches the conflict on Shiro's face as he considers whether to hold Keith up with one hand. He  _could_  – they both know he could – but Shiro evidently decides against it, and Keith's glad; he doesn't want to wait either. Their bed looks more and more inviting by the second.

“I'm wearing more thermals than you can imagine,” he says.

“That's hot,” Shiro says, and Keith isn't even sure if he meant the pun but he groans anyway, stumbling as Shiro sets him down.

He goes for the last of his buttons, the ones Keith couldn't reach, and Keith says, “That shirt looks expensive,” watching Shiro tear at it without care.

“What shirt?” Shiro says carelessly, tossing it to the floor, and Keith grins and strips his sweater off. “Really?” Shiro asks as the shirt beneath is revealed, and Keith bites his lip against a smile and starts to unbutton it, slowly enough that it takes a moment before Shiro can see what comes next.

“Are you joking,” Shiro says flatly.

“It's cold,” Keith protests, and before he can move to take the thermal off as well Shiro's hands go to the hem, untucking it and pushing it up slowly. “If I'd known you were coming home,” Keith says, breath hitching as Shiro's hands slide over his stomach, “I wouldn't have worn  _anything_.”

“There's time for that,” Shiro says slowly, pushing Keith's shirt around his armpits and thumbing his nipples.

“Don't tease,” Keith says breathlessly, and he takes a step back, moving to undo and wriggle out of his jeans. Shiro does the same, discarding his suit trousers and boxers and kicking away his socks with such eagerness Keith laughs.

“Hurry up then,” Shiro says, and draws Keith back to him by the hips when he's done, kissing him hard and tugging at Keith's boxers and sliding them down until Keith can kick them away too, laughing breathlessly as Shiro pushes him down on the bed, scrambling to lay his head in the pillows before Shiro's on him again.

Keith shivers suddenly, overwhelmed; all he's wanted for weeks is to have Shiro home, and this now, pressed down by Shiro's weight and touching along the whole lengths of their bodies is so much, so warm, so  _close_ , and Keith holds Shiro tight and breathes him in, never wanting to let go again.

“Show me how much you missed me,” he demands between kisses, and feels Shiro smirk against his neck as he tips Keith's chin up.

“I will, baby,” he promises, voice low and dark, and Keith moans as Shiro starts sucking a mark, the hint of teeth making his heart race.

“You're making me feel eighteen again,” he gasps. “Who are you trying to scare away, huh?”

“No one,” Shiro says, biting teasingly at Keith's earlobe. “Want you to know that you're mine.”

“Fuck, Shiro,” Keith says breathlessly. “You know I'm yours.”

Shiro makes a low, pleased noise, and it turns Keith's knees to water even before Shiro reaches down and takes him in hand. It seems so long since Keith's had a hand on him that's not his own, and he moans and arches into the simple touch, looking away from Shiro's surprised expression in embarrassment.

“You're gonna be easy today, aren't you,” he teases, and Keith means to hit him but Shiro tightens his grip and Keith reckons his eyes roll back in his head.

“Shut up,” he chokes out instead. “It's been  _weeks_ , Shiro – “

“I know,” Shiro says, a little softer. “I wanted you so badly, you have no idea.”

Keith has  _some_  idea, maybe, but then he supposes Shiro doesn't know about how Keith had missed the affection and the intimacy, how frustrating it was to finger himself and have it not be  _enough_ , how many times he considered ringing Shiro just to hear the sound of his voice. He’d missed being touched, being kissed, and every time Shiro goes away Keith vows never to take his presence for granted again.

“Come on,” he says instead, and a thrill goes through him when Shiro finally leans over to the bedside drawer to grab the lube, but then he remembers.

Keith bites his lip as Shiro observes the very nearly empty bottle, and Shiro turns to him with raised eyebrows. “If this was empty,” he says, “you'd be in big trouble.”

“Would I now,” Keith says lazily, spreading his legs wide and smugly watching Shiro get distracted, though he is a little embarrassed. If he'd known Shiro was coming, he would have bought some; there's still a sense of panic that he's not ready, that not everything was perfect for Shiro's return. “I suppose you'd have to punish me.”

“I would,” Shiro mutters, and Keith can't be bothered to tease back as Shiro flicks the cap open and slicks his fingers. “Up,” Shiro says, tapping Keith's thigh, and Keith obediently lifts up, foot flat on the bed so he's spread open, bared to Shiro's heady gaze.

“No time for romance, I guess,” Keith says, but he can't help his moan as Shiro touches slick fingers to his hole, the shock of the cold and the intimate touch sending waves of heat through his body. He's tense, he knows he's tense – Shiro rubs slow circles around the rim, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and his prosthetic is smooth on Keith's thigh, spreading him just a little wider.

“Relax, baby,” Shiro says after a moment, and Keith goes red, taking deep breaths and trying to relax his muscles. “It's alright,” Shiro adds, and Keith exhales, wanting him so badly but frustrated with the unfortunate nature of anatomy meaning he can't have Shiro  _now_.

“Sorry,” Keith says, throwing a hand over his face so he doesn't have to look at Shiro's understanding expression. Now, of all times, he thinks, irritated.

“Shh,” Shiro soothes, and then, finally, “There we go,” and Keith groans as Shiro presses his finger inside, still in circular motions, other hand stroking Keith's thigh reassuringly.

It's only one finger, nothing compared to what Keith wants, or indeed what he's  _had_  over the past weeks – toys, plugs, his own fingers – but it feels so good Keith could cry just knowing it's Shiro, that Shiro can give him what he's missed all this time.

Shiro's hand disappears from Keith's thigh, and Keith watches him stroke himself a few times, exhaling heavily as he teases a second finger at Keith's hole.

“I swear I'm going to come as soon as I get inside you,” Shiro says when he sees Keith looking, and Keith blushes.

“It's okay,” he breathes, and groans when Shiro slides the second finger alongside the first, rubbing and stretching in circles that somehow feel better than anything Keith's done to himself since Shiro's been gone. “It'll be like our first time.”

“Oh, God,” Shiro groans. They're not usually this talkative during sex – not more than moans of, “ _Shiro_ ,” and, “ _Keith_ ” – but Keith finds he doesn't want to stop talking, even as the brief silences are broken by his hiccuping moans as Shiro widens his circles, rubbing a third finger against Keith's hole. “I was so embarrassed, you don't even know.”

“You made it up to me,” Keith recalls, smiling down at the blush on Shiro's cheeks. They'd been in Keith's bed – Keith's stupid, tiny bed that hardly fit both of them – and Shiro had been mortified when he came after only a few short thrusts, not even withdrawing all the way. Keith had laughed and stroked his cheek and then Shiro had eaten him out until he cried instead, and the incident was forgotten after they managed to have a successful 'first' time the next day.

“Can you take three?” Shiro asks quietly, and Keith feels like glaring at him despite knowing he's only being careful. It has been a while, after all; an agonisingly long while.

“Yeah, yes –  _Shiro_ , fuck,” spills from Keith as Shiro slides his third finger in without preamble, going immediately for Keith's prostate and Keith cries out, back arching as he thrusts down on Shiro's fingers. “Please,” he says quickly, choking on the words, and Shiro presses hard against his prostate, rubbing mercilessly until Keith's panting.

“Did it feel this good by yourself, baby?” Shiro asks, and there's a smirk on his face that suggests he knows the answer.

“No,” Keith blurts out. “Never enough – oh God, Shiro – “

Shiro teases him a while longer, stretching him open on three fingers and returning to his prostate just often enough that Keith isn't impatient, hot and trembling all over and desperate to have Shiro inside him, and then he shifts, withdrawing his fingers with a filthy noise and reaching for what's left of the lube to slick his cock.

“I want to feel you,” he says to Keith's questioning look, thinking about the condoms in the drawer, and Keith swallows and nods because he couldn’t bear there to be a barrier between them now. Shiro comes up to kiss him again, hot and wet and submitting as Keith tugs firmly at his hair and lifts his legs to wrap around Shiro's waist.

“I'm not going to last,” he breathes when the head of Shiro's cock is just pressing at his hole.

“I don’t want you to,” Shiro murmurs, and Keith watches his face intently as he starts pushing inside, watching Shiro's features go lax and his teeth sink into his bottom lip. “God, you're  _tight_ , Keith,” he says, and they're both panting, eyes fixed firmly on each other, and Keith takes Shiro's face in his hands and kisses him hard. There's a flutter in Keith's heart he thinks is nerves, and he feels silly for it, though it feels like it's been forever and he worries irrelevantly that maybe it won't be as good, or maybe he's forgotten  _how_  to be good.

They haven't forgotten.

Keith already feels the tightening heat in his stomach as Shiro begins thrusting shallowly, gently up and down until they're gasping with it, and Keith squeezes his legs tighter and tells him, “Come on,” moaning helplessly when Shiro pulls out and thrusts back in  _hard_ , his eyes shut tight and cheeks flushed.

“You feel so good,” he pants, and then he moves faster until they're fucking  _properly_ , their bed creaking and complaining with the movement of Shiro's hips, Keith's back arching until they're almost completely pressed together, as close to one being as two people can be and somehow not close enough.

The thought almost tips Keith over, and he reaches to squeeze the base of his cock to hold it off, wanting to last, wanting to have Shiro as long as he can, but Shiro notices, bats his hand away and replaces it with his own, stroking Keith firmly in time with his thrusts, and Keith comes with a cry, flooding hot with embarrassment at coming so soon.

“Fuck, baby,” Shiro says roughly, and he doesn't stop, fucking Keith still as his hole flutters and clenches with orgasm, pulling a moan from Shiro as Keith trembles in the aftermath, letting Shiro interlock their fingers and pin them above his head.

He's oversensitive but the drag of Shiro's cock inside him is so  _good_ , too much and still not enough, and Keith starts getting hard again, figuring that just Shiro's presence is enough to get him good for another round. Keith's cock twitches weakly as he moans and shivers and squeezes around Shiro, clenching down again and again until Shiro comes, gasping and burying his face in Keith's neck.

“ _Keith_ ,” he says, muffled, and Keith shifts uncomfortably, cock rubbing against Shiro's stomach, reaching up to run his fingers through Shiro's hair.

“Mmm,” Keith hums, and he's starting to feel over-full, uncomfortably aware of how wide he's stretched around Shiro, but it still makes them both groan when Shiro pulls out.

“That was quick,” Shiro teases, and Keith bites his lip even though he knows Shiro isn't really making fun of them, because  _God_ , it’s been a while. When he does look up, it's to see something wicked come into Shiro's gaze when he sees Keith's cock hard against his belly. “Again, sweetheart?”

Keith attempts to shrug, squirming a little under the scrutiny, and Shiro splays a hand over his stomach, brushing a finger over Keith’s nipple and spilling a moan from his throat.

“Turn over,” Shiro says suddenly, and Keith frowns at him but rolls over, getting onto his hands and knees when Shiro gently touches the back of his leg.

“What are you doing?” Keith asks, though he's got a pretty good idea, breath coming faster just at the revealing position. “Shiro –  _ah_!”

Shiro licks a broad swipe over his hole and Keith cries out, the noise torn from him and surely too loud for their little apartment, but Shiro doesn’t reprimand him the way he usually does, doesn’t even look up as he grabs Keith’s ass and spreads him wider, metal fingers creating just enough pressure that Keith dizzily hopes Shiro leaves fingerprints.

Keith feels filthy, already feeling Shiro’s come sliding from him but Shiro doesn’t stop, tracing the rim with fingers and tongue before working his tongue  _inside_ , hot and wet and narrowing the pleasure to a single point, pushing deep. Keith arches his back and presses his face against his forearms and drools pre-come onto the sheets, Shiro’s favourite way to clean him up bringing a hot flush to his cheeks.

Shiro pulls back with a filthy noise, teases sucking a mark at the juncture of Keith’s thigh, and murmurs, “You’re so wet, baby.” His other hand, his flesh hand – the prosthetic still spreading Keith open – comes to Keith’s cock, thumbing over the head, and Keith whimpers, trembling on a knife-edge and wishing Shiro would just tip him over, because he can’t –

“Oh, God,” is all he can manage before Shiro starts on him again, this time pressing two fingers alongside his tongue and it’s too much, too big even as Keith’s hole greedily clenches down, making Keith writhe in Shiro’s grip. He thinks he could cry with it, if Shiro pushed him a little harder, but Shiro’s hand moves faster on his cock at the same time, licking and sucking noisily at Keith until he shudders and cries out and comes for a second time, chest heaving with exertion and hole over-sensitive and raw. Behind him he can hear Shiro working his own cock until he comes too, his deep moan reverberating through Keith and making him tremble, desperately trying to remain upright.

Shiro’s hands come to him, encouraging him onto his side and avoiding the wet spot, and Keith blinks up at his boyfriend and lets a slow smile spread across his face.

“Fuck, I love you,” Shiro says helplessly, and Keith reaches for him. He won’t let Shiro kiss him – even the most thoughtful gifts don’t negate where his mouth has been – and so Shiro buries his face in Keith’s neck, thumb stroking absently along Keith’s cheekbone.

“I love you too,” Keith remembers to reply after a while, and Shiro stirs, shifting some of his weight from Keith.

“Shower,” he mumbles, and Keith doesn’t bother to dissuade him, wanting Shiro back in their bed as soon as possible.

He gives himself a cursory clean-up with the washcloth Shiro throws him, stripping the top cover from the bed and replacing it with a new one for them to sleep under for the moment – he can’t be bothered to stuff a new duvet and make hospital corners right now.

Keith curls up on his side and listens to the familiar sounds: Shiro cursing as he elbows a bottle to the floor because he’s too big for their shower; the water starting in a pathetic drip before it all comes out at once; Shiro humming to himself and guaranteeing Keith ammunition for the inevitable, “Who sings in the shower?” debate.

He isn’t sure if he drops off for a while, but wakes to Shiro making an inane comment, and then hears, “Why is the biscuit tin in here?” and groans, burying his face in the pillow. He hears Shiro enter the bedroom, and waits a moment before rolling onto his back, trying his best puppy eyes.

Keith stays on-task despite being confronted with Shiro naked and damp and barely covered by his towel.

“I was bored waiting for my nail polish to dry,” he whines, and Shiro gives him an unimpressed look, though his eyes do flicker to Keith’s nails when he holds them up. They look good, and they only look good because Keith was too distracted to risk smudging them. He plans ahead.

“There are chocolate chips,” Shiro says dangerously, lips twitching with a smirk, “in the sink.”

Keith beams at him. “Easy to clean, then.”

Shiro heaves a sigh but ditches his towel and pulls the covers back, sliding in beside Keith. It’s hardly past lunchtime yet, but Keith is excellent at peer-pressuring Shiro into naps, and he thinks this time it’s justified.

“I get the feeling I’m going to miss the cleaning service,” Shiro says, and Keith gasps in mock-offense.

“You insult me.”

Shiro gives him the look – the one that means  _why are you so far away?_  – and Keith cuddles up close, head on Shiro’s shoulder and his hand over Shiro’s heart.

“Hotels are great,” Shiro says, tone light and mocking, and Keith hides his smile. “Someone else does the cleaning, I got room service, a double bed all to myself – “

“None of the hotels had me in them,” Keith says obstinately, pushing his head against Shiro's neck.

“That’s true,” Shiro says softly, moving his hand into Keith’s hair, and Keith sighs happily. “Bad design choice on their part.”

After a while, Keith’s halfway to dozing off, and Shiro must think he’s asleep, stroking his cheek and murmuring, “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” is what Keith means to say, but he can’t help falling asleep in Shiro’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave a comment if you enjoyed, and you can find me on twitter at twitter.com/starboysheith and tumblr at starboykeith.tumblr.com !


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